


You're holding back

by Amymel86



Series: Tumblr Prompts [16]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Sam has a dream. A dream to open Westeros' very first holographic historical museum.If only the holograms would behave!





	You're holding back

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoy my nonsense! :)
> 
> For the tumblr prompt "You're holding back"

"You're holding back."

Sam blinked owlishly at his brother before averting his eyes back down to the control tablet in his hand. "I'm quite sure that I- that I don't know what you mean."

He knows exactly what Dickon means. He just doesn't want to admit anything out loud and risk information about his very likely failure reaching the ears of his father.

 _"I mean_ '" Dickon starts, obviously not content to let this go; to let Sam shuffle off without comment and see to his work, "that all is not well and you're not telling me what it is."

Sam shakes his head and taps a few places on the screen in front of him, opening his mouth as if to refute what his brother is saying, but knowing damn well that he can't.

Dickon sighs. " _Sam_ , father begrudgingly invested in your little dream and he won't hesitate to pull his funding at the first sign of trouble. You know it." 

Sam closed his eyes and took in a large lungful of breath. Dickon is right.

"Please. If there's something going on, tell me. Maybe I can help?"

"Oh," Sam snorted, chuckling without mirth, "and I suppose you're an expert in the behaviour of DNA based replication holographic projections?"

Dickon furrowed his brow. "What?"

Sam gave his brother a melancholy smile. He's going to have to stop pussyfooting around and confess, even if it jeopardises what he hopes was to be known as his life's greatest work.

He feels himself deflate and gives in to that sinking sensation. "It's better if I just show you," he mutters, tapping some instructions onto his control tablet and leading the way. Dickon follows, no doubt worried and confused.

They seat themselves on the viewing platform and Sam pushes the correct buttons to lower the safety bar and begin the tour. "Bear in mind that it's not perfected yet."

"Bear in mind that father expects you to open the doors to the paying public in two months," Dickon reminded him.

Ever since the first crude hologram and virtual reality technologies were being perfected, Sam has had this idea; this plan to bring something that he loves so so dearly to life and share it with as many other people as possible. 

The lights on the stage below them rise and both Sam and Dickon are looking at the setting for the first part of Tarly's Living History Museum. A cinematic scene of Torrhen Stark kneeling to Aegon Targaren. Flags bearing sigils flutter in a nonexistent breeze and the air is palpable with a sense of both triumph and loss.

Sam presses some more buttons and the viewing pkatform manouvres into place, lowering them as the scene changes and they are beside a rushing river, all around them the deafening cries of battle bleed into the countryside. A huge figure wearing a helm with antlers brings down a mighty blow of his warhammer, caving the breastplate of his foe. Glittering rubies sprinkled out into the air. Sam heard his brother gasp 

"This is marvellous, Sam," Dickon grins and he actually feels himself flush with pride - a sensation he is woefully unaccustomed to. "What's the issue? We could open this to the public today!"

Feeling himself wince, Sam presses the necessary buttons to move the tour further along.

"People are gonna love this!" His brother continues, caught up in the magic of seeing historical events unfold right before his very eyes.

Their seating platform moves with a smooth electronic hum so that they are positioned on high again. The holographic scene switches with a flicker and out of nowhere a crowd materialises in front and below them. 

"My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch... " a voice boomed. They were outside The Sept of Balor, complete before the famous and mysterious Wildfire accident, and there, on the steps was a gathering of nobles as well as King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his Name. "...stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile," the king continued. "And my Lady Sansa," at the mention of the name, a young girl donning a pink gown and red hair made up in an intricate style of the time steps forward. She smiles at the man on his knees and goes over to stand closer to the king who had not paused in his speech. "... has begged mercy for her father. But they have the soft hearts of women... so long as I'm your King treason shall never go unpunished! Ser Ilyn, bring me his-"

At that, his voice cuts off in a horrifying gurgle and a ruby red collar opens at his throat, sticky jewels of blood dripping and spurting onto his very fine clothes. The Lady Sansa stands behind him as he falls to his knees, a dagger in her hand and a smile on her lips.

Sam pauses the scene as the crowd begins to erupt.

"I..." Dickon tries, before turning in his seat to look his brother in the eye, "I thought he was poisoned? That's what they taught us at school... isn't it?" 

Sam nods his head and looks to the holograms, frozen in time, a time that never was. Lady Sansa wearing her smile with satisfaction and King Joffrey on his knees, the terror only known by those about to meet their end clear on his face. "No, that never happened. Eddard Stark was supposed to be beheaded."

"So.... what happened here? Some haywire software? A glitch?"

 _Oh Seven Hells, here goes nothing_. "N-no, not _quite_ ," Sam hesitated and wet his lips."D-do you remember when I grovelled and begged father for more money to be invested?"

Sam watched his brother's eyes look up to the ceiling, trying to recount the memory. "You said you needed more for the viewing platform hydraulics?" He said, tapping the safety bar still lowered in front of them. "This viewing platform."

"Y-yes, well... I lied."

"You lied?"

Sam nod his head frantically. "Yes, I lied."

"To _our_ father?"

"Yep."

Dickon sucked in a breath, his eyes going back to the faulty historical scene. His brow creased again. "I'm still not sure how this is connected?" He asked, hand gesturing towards the gruesome holographic murder.

"Well, after opening this tour, I had hopes of creating more interactive exhibits; where the public can move around the historical scenes and interact with the characters. Imagine being able to ask Rhaegar Targaryen why he crowned Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty? Or Roose Bolton why he betrayed his king? It would be incredible!" Sam could feel himself getting animated.

The corners of Dickon's mouth turned downwards as he nodded and contemplated Sam's plans. "Sounds good."

"Yes, well, the holograms we had were only able to answer in ways that we'd programmed them and with answers that we'd given them."

"What's wrong with that?"

Sam rolled his eyes and let out a huff. "It's been done a million times over and a lot cheaper by hiring actors to dress up." His brother blinked back at him, waiting for his continuation. "So... th-there's this new technology that allows you to create a holographic projection using DNA. The hologram actually retains the memories, personality and mannerisms of the person, not to mention will be an exact physical copy."

"And that's what you asked extra money for? An exact copy of a historical figure?"

"Yes," Sam pointed to the figure of the triumphant girl holding the dagger, "she's one of them. What you're seeing is exactly what a young Sansa Stark looked like." He paused and tapped on his control panel. The scene changed with a flicker to now show a slightly older Sansa Stark, with hair dyed brown, standing near the infamous Moon Door of the Eyrie. "The problem is, the DNA holograms seem more cognizant than we anticipated. Look."

Both brothers watched as Sansa Stark began backing away from her aunt, a woman famed for poisoning her first husband and suffering mental illness causing her to take her own life by stepping out into open air. The young Sansa seemed to lure the older woman closer and closer to the edge of the Moon Door before dodging an ill-timed lunge and allowing her aunt to fall all six hundred feet to her death on the jagged stones below. Sam paused the scene.

"Well," Dickon started, licking his lips as he was very visibly trying to process the whole situation. "Perhaps that's exactly what happened? Maybe that's how Sansa Stark remembered it?"

Sam shook his head. "In this particular scene, no matter how many times we play it through, she shoves Lord Petyr Baelish out of the Moon Door too and all historical records show that he died at a much later date and in the North."

"Maybe the historical records are wrong?"

"And Lord Eddard's execution too?" Sam raised his brows, gently challenging his brothers reasoning. "It doesn't matter what we do, which events we recreate, these DNA based holograms keep messing up history as we know it. It's like they're trying to rewrite their stories." Sam flushed, knowing what else he needs to reveal. "And it gets worse."

"Worse?"

He nods his head in response and taps on his control panel. The scene switches to a castle courtyard, muddy and cold looking, with a much older Sansa Stark standing to attention awaiting to greet an arrival. A black destrier comes trotting energetically into the courtyard, a fur-cloaked figure seated on its back. Sam pauses the scene before it can unfold. 

"So... when I requested m-more funding from father, I only recieved enough for one tomb opening."

Dickon wrinkled his nose. "Tomb opening?"

"Yes. How else do you think I was going to get accurate DNA?" Sam watched his brother shrug so continued. "I needed to make the money stretch, so I contacted The Northern Historical Society about their most famous double burial tomb." He looked to his brother, expecting him to have already filled in the gaps, but finding himself sighing instead. Dickon had never been as keen on history as Sam. "Queen Sansa requested her cousin be buried with her, you see?"

"Her cousin? The Queenslayer? I thought he was banished to the Night's Watch."

Sam nodded, pleased that his brother remembered _something_ from his history lessons at school at least. "Yes, but she pardoned him and he became her Queensguard captain. His Targaryen heritage meant that the North remained suspicious of him and he was not particularly well liked. Good Queen Sansa fell ill only three days after he'd passed away of a fever in old age and she herself died a few days after that. Her dying wish was for her Queensguard Captain to be buried with her, so she would be protected in death too." Sam paused to appraise the frozen woman stood with her hands clasped together before her, the very picture of elegance. "The truth is, she was protecting him too."

"How so?" Dickon asked, eying the man on horseback.

"The Winterfell crypts are reserved for Starks only. The northern lords were not happy about her wishes to have a Targaryen buried with their dead. There were even accounts of people wanting his remains burned; a fitting end for a Targaryen. But Queen Sansa was adamant. Her Maester's journal quotes her as saying _'we burn together then! If the north will not honour him, give me no tomb either. We shall both be ashes on the breeze, him and I."_

"Wow," Dickon exhaled, looking to the redhead who only had eyes for her arrival, "she was quite the woman."

Sam grins. "She was."

"So you opened the one tomb and got two sets of DNA? Queen Sansa," he points to her, "and..." Dickon then points to the man on horseback trying to rack his brains for the name he was taught in history class.

"Jon Snow," Sam supplied. "Yes. A two-for-one deal if you will."

"And is he messing up his historical scenes too?"

Sam can practically feel his cheeks turning blotchy red. "Yes. This-this scene here is him arriving back at Winterfell after securing a military alliance with Daenerys Targaryen to help win The War for the Dawn."

Dickon frowned. "Is that an important event in history? Jon Snow arriving back home, I mean?"

"Well, technically, no. But I wanted to recreate some scenes that led up to what Jon is famous for."

"Going all stabby stabby on the dragon queen?"

Sam chuckled, trust his younger brother to phrase it like that! "Yes. But there has long been suspicion within historical circles that Jon Snow and Sansa Stark conspired and plotted against Daenerys Targaryen together. I thought... well, I thought if I programmed some scenes like this, we might see hints of that... but... um... instead of that, I may have uncovered the answer to another of our country's great historical mysteries." His face was flaming hot now, knowing what would unfold when he took the scene off pause.

"What mystery?"

Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Can you remember what else Good Queen Sansa is famed for?"

His brother tapped at his chin in thought. "Oh!" He exclaimed, clicking his fingers, "didn't she have like... a dozen kids or something?"

"She had nine," Sam corrected with a gulp, "seven d-daughters and two sons. All illegitimate, but legitimized by her own crown. She claimed they were _'sired by a wolf_ ' but her children's paternity has been debated upon for centuries." Sam pressed play on the scene and held his breath.

Sansa Stark broke rank amongst the greeting party and lunged forward towards the great black horse as she always does whenever Sam plays this scene. Jon Snow, for his part, is eager to swing down from his charge and take his cousin in a warm embrace. Only, the embrace isn't just a simple, platonic hug, because there, in the middle of the courtyard, Jon Snow has his tongue in Sansa Stark's mouth as they both seem intent on devouring one another.

"Oh shit!" Dickon laughs.

Sam winces. "Wait, it gets worse."

And, just like in every scene Sam has ever programmed with both these two historical figures, Jon Snow begins to back Sansa Stark against the stone wall of the cold courtyard, his hands busily attempting to gather her skirts as he goes.

"Oh... _shit!_ " Dickon repeats, only this time in a tone of realisation.

The other holograms in the scene don't appear to know what to do as they watch their king hastily untie his breeches and mouth at their Lady's neck. Sam can' t say he blames them.

The figure of Daenerys Targaryen arrives just as Jon Snow starts thrusting in earnest, his redheaded cousin being jostled against the rough stone wall, their eyes locked in a heated gaze. The dragon queen's mouth hangs open as she watches the couple. Sam thinks she looks as though she might fall off her horse. He knows he would.

"S-so you see, Dickon, I think we can conclude who fathered the children who went on to be royalty of many different countries... but there's no way I can open my musuem to the public until I can figure out how to stop them from... well..."

"Fucking each other's brains out?" Dickon supplied, still staring at the pair absolutely _going for it_ now.

"Well.. yes... _quite_."


End file.
